


Mewving Furward

by Laurasauras



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bro Strider Feels, Cat Puns, Coming back from the dead, Dropped Back On Earth, Feeling A Whole Bunch But Pretending Real Hard They're Not, Hope For Reconciliation, Post-Sburb/Sgrub, Striders Being Striders, just so many puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26588965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laurasauras/pseuds/Laurasauras
Summary: When they win the game, the humans and their guardians land on Earth as if nothing happened. In the couple days following, the Striders decide to coordinate with the Lalondes and make tentative steps towards figuring out how to relate to each other.
Comments: 32
Kudos: 93





	Mewving Furward

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Katreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katreal/gifts).



> Happy (late) birthday, Kat!! It’s an absolute delight having you as a friend and I hope you like this!
> 
> Not gonna lie, this is so inspired by [the run and go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16626638) by deserts that it’s bordering on a speedrun ripoff. My defence is that I love that fic times a million! This is also my excuse to have So Many Striders talking and make a shitload of cat puns.

You land heavily, one knee down and one up like a superhero, and promptly fall ass sideways, significantly less like a superhero. You look hazily up and see Dave land identically, then stand up. Bastard. You climb to your feet, a little off balance, and spread your wings to correct it—except you don’t have wings, argh! You fall onto your metaphorical tail again, this time with a little “umph”.

‘Davepeta,’ Dave says, turning. ‘Wait, still Davepeta, right?’

‘Yes?’ you say. ‘Who else would I be? Wanna help me up meow?’

‘It’s just ...’ he starts, but then he sighs and shakes his head. ‘You’ll see.’

He holds out his hands and you struggle to get your feet under you. You haven’t walked in a while, wow. Last time was—depends on who you mean. You’ve never walked as yourself as you now stand. Which ... okay, yup, you do indeed see that there have been some changes.

You’re no longer fluorescent and flashy, instead the fingers you’re examining are tanned orange-brown in a distinctly different flavour to Dave’s, whose skin is kinda at a midway between Dirk and Roxy, not shitty tanning salon coloured like you now are. Your gloves are clawless (rude) and your coat is back to olive, your jammies purple. It’s not a colour combo you’d choose on your own. You reach up to your head and feel your horns firmly in place. Not entirely human, then. And no hat, sad face. Equius gave you that hat, and you’re not pleased with your sprite for eating it. Dave’s still in his god tier outfit, which looks weird in a cityscape.

‘Shit!’ you and Dave say in unnerving synchronicity, jumping backwards with significantly less freaky twin nonsense, because he’s got a lot more grace than your out-of-practice-with-standing self. You nearly fall over again, but Dave catches you under your arms and holds you in an undignified slump in front of him as the two of you process the newest incomer. He looked like a jumper until he landed, crouched with the movement and stood back up. Even classier than when Dave did it.

‘Yo,’ he says, looking at the two of you through familiar aviators. He hesitates for a moment, taking you in. Then, ‘I’m gonna roll with this. Maybe everyone goes to Texas and is confronted with young versions of themselves when they die, I’m not gonna go and judge God, that seems like a fucked up way to go to hell. Unless this is hell. Aw man, is it because of the murder thing? I was totally justified there and besides, Rose told me to do it, what, you think I could say no to Rose? Not possible mini Daves, not possible.’

‘Davepeta,’ you say, holding your hand up in supremely uncool greeting. You know, like nya.

‘Cool,’ older Dave says. He straightens his suit cuffs compulsively.

Original flavour Dave helps you back to proper standing and you manage not to eat shit again. You’re way wobbly, trying so hard not to overcompensate for your missing wings that you roll right back into some other kind of bad balancing behaviour. You think sturdy thoughts.

‘I don’t think we’re dead,’ OG Dave says, dragging his eyes off your kinda stupid grounding pose. ‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I think the world is fair or anything, this is just a mixture of super weird and super bland. Like, my—our place is near here.’

‘Is that the plan?’ you ask. ‘Beclaws I don’t have a better one, might as well go back to the nest.’

‘Did you just say “beclaws”?’ old Dave asks. OG Dave sighs minutely but doesn’t seem surprised.

‘Purrhaps,’ you say, drawing out the “purr” with a mischievous and definitely adorable smile.

‘Yup. Weird and yet bland,’ old Dave agrees.

You need help climbing down from the roof of the record store you’ve all found yourselves dumped on, but you manage to get control as you walk towards the apartment. Probably more control than Dave would like, seeing as his jaw gets tighter every time you jump up into the air with excitement.

After a block of circuitous rambling in which each of you competes for highest word per minute total, you discover that old Dave is definitely Dirk’s bro and the murder thing was just a necessary decapitation of juggalos on the White House, no big. Even though they both struggle with shutting up, they are curious as to what your deal is seeing as you’re not an original flavour player and, you know, you’re half troll.

‘I dunno,’ you say cheerfully. ‘Feels kinda foggy outside the main me’s that shook hands to become this me. Like there was a laser pointer trained at the wall but the damn human’s gone and turned it off! I’m like scrabbling at the wall all, “yo, where is that sicknasty laser pointer!” And I know it was there but now the human’s gotten bored and is doing something dumb instead. Davepeta sits their chin on their paws and makes a super cute sad face.’

‘Oh good,’ Dave says. ‘You’re roleplaying now.’

‘You bet your sweet tail I am!’

Neither of them want to roleplay with you, which is fine. You have spent a lot of time roleplaying in the vicinity of people who were being stubborn jackasses about it. And also it’s new and exciting to you, so your enthusiasm is enough to make you purrsist in the face of greater adverskitty than this!

When you finally make it to the apartment, old Dave has completely given up on trying to interrupt your argument about the radness attributes of roleplay with OG Dave, which on your side is taking place _inside_ a roleplay like a yolk inside a goddamn egg. You’re gonna start peppering in some bird shit once you think of new puns. _Birdshit,_ that’s going on the list! Man, once you get a handle on this pun thing, your raps are gonna kick ass.

‘Um ...’ OG Dave says, pointing across the street.

Approaching you is a very odd trio. Leading the way is your— _Dave’s_ bro, shirtless and with his hands over Dirk’s ears, jaw tight and stubbornly ignoring a wolf-whistle following him as he goes. Dirk’s still dressed in his ridiculous purple outfit, looking even more tense than Bro. Right behind them, with his hand on Bro’s shoulder and Bro’s shirt over his head ... Equius! You leap forward with zero regard for your still not fab balance and trip over your meowtherflocking feet. 

‘Meowtherflock,’ you say, because that one was way too good to waste on your own head.

‘Jesus Christ, Davepeta,’ OG Dave sighs. He helps you back to your feet like a gentleman. You bet you could fall over all damn day and he’d help you up every time.

The trio meets you in front of the apartment and you bounce on the balls of your toes without flinging yourself Equius-ward again.

‘Why are we stopping?’ Dirk asks, voice loud because he can’t hear himself.

‘Because we’re here, numbnuts,’ Bro says, barely taking his hands away. ‘Don’t open your eyes.’ He looks from you and old Dave to OG Dave. ‘Is one a’y’all gonna open the door or what?’

Of course Bro isn’t fazed by whatever’s going on here. OG Dave pats his pocketless god tier jammies sarcastically. Old Dave fishes in his pocket for his keys, which fit in the lock no problem. Once inside you decide you’re allowed to make a bit of a fuss, considering you basically showed restraint outside.

‘Equius!’ OG Dave gives you a judgemental look for the girlish excitability you’re displaying. Whatever, so you’re a bit fem now. Equius is gonna judge you for your Daveishness too, you just know it.

‘Arquius,’ he corrects. God, he’s still under the shirt. You’re not gonna be the one to point that out, it’s too funny.

‘Even better!’ you grin. ‘Gimme a paw, ponyboy. Old Dave doesn’t want to lug me up all those stairs and I don’t want to fall down them going it alone, too much irony, the world would explode. Let’s put those muscles to _use!’_

‘Hey, I’m not even 40,’ old Dave objects. Dirk stands up straighter, but his eyes remain closed behind his shades. ‘I look good for my age, I use night cream. _Night cream,_ the kind that comes in tiny ass tubs you can barely fit your finger in and it’s like what, do you think I only have a small number of nights left because I want my beautiful face to stay this way?’

‘Can we get out of the fucking lobby?’ Bro says, his inflection making it more of an order than a question. He removes his hands from Dirk’s ears and snatches his shirt from Arquius’s head. It looks wet. Ha. ‘We’re inside, how’s that?’

Dirk opens his eyes and looks around. 

‘I don’t think I’m going to piss my pants at the confronting interior of this apartment,’ he says dryly. He assesses the three Daves with pretty convincing coolness. ‘Oh hey, we match.’

‘Yeah, it’s very interesting. Fucking lobby. Git.’ 

Bro flicks his collar back up to douchebag position and pushes Dirk in the direction of the stairwell. You leap into Arquius’s bleached-white arms and he shifts you so he’s holding you fireman style like you don’t weigh more than a kitten. You grin at OG Dave and he makes an anguished face.

You don’t run into anyone on the stairs and it’s not long before you’re being deposited with great gentleness onto the couch like a goddamn princess. The rest of the gang stays standing, but arranges themselves so you don’t have to crane your neck. You could get up, but eh.

‘What’s wrong with your legs?’ Bro asks you. ‘Also your face.’

‘More a balance thing than a leg thing,’ you say. ‘I used to run around with wings or a tail, depending on who we’re talkin’ about, both are purretty balance-changing. And that, plus everything else, is beclaws I’m the result of a Dave and a Nepeta fusing together Dragon Ball Z styles. Hence: Davepeta.’

‘They’re like Arquius,’ OG Dave says, ‘and their face is fine.’

‘Aww,’ you say. He shoots you an annoyed look.

‘Okay, fine,’ Bro says, not as if he understands but as if he doesn’t really give a shit. You know he’ll want to know literally everything about the situation later, but he’s a prioritiser. ‘Last thing I remember I was kicking the shit out of some insect dude, then the motherfucker leveled up dog-ways. I wasn’t anticipating being dropped back in Texas with bonus Striders in the middle of a fight. Anyone wanna share with the class their insights into the matter?’

‘We won,’ OG Dave says. ‘I mean, you didn’t. You ...’ He trails off awkwardly.

‘S’okay, kid,’ old Dave says gently. ‘We knew what it meant to be guardians, right, man?’

Bro nods tersely. You’re betting he thought he was going to prove his destiny wrong just by being fucking awesome. Probably could have done it too, if it wasn’t for Bec being prototyped. 

‘Right,’ OG Dave says uneasily, avoiding looking at Bro. ‘We beat the bosses and then John opened a door, that’s the last thing I remember.’

‘Same,’ Dirk says. ‘Have any sprite insight to add?’ he asks Arquius.

‘Sorry, sir broseph,’ Arquius says. ‘My sprite powers seem to have absconded along with my sweet sprite tail. My computing power is clopdarn disgraceful right now, too. It seems I’m a normal troll dude, if a flop-flipping ripped one.’ 

‘Still not ruling out hell,’ old Dave says with a degree of casualness that you think conceals a very real concern.

You watch with interest as five very similar dudes look thoughtful and avoid eye-contact. You don’t really feel any push to solve this mystery. You assume you’ll know when it’s time for you to know, you’ve felt fairly at peace with how causality works since you got some distance from the overwhelming pressure of it. And you believe in everyone so much!

‘Hey, not to interrupt brooding hour,’ old Dave says. ‘But do you think Rose ... Like, we can’t be the only ones, right? Rose was right next to me, unless she knocked over the Batterwitch on her own, which I can’t rule out.’

‘She did not,’ Dirk says with an apologetic grimace. ‘But that’s an interesting thought. I don’t have a sylladex and my shades are just protective eyewear, anyone got a phone?’

You all reach for non-existent sylladexes and then pat your clothes. Old Dave produces an iPhone from an inside jacket pocket and Bro just moves to his computer. He freezes once he jiggles the thing to life, staring at the password prompt. Surely he hasn’t forgotten the C-Man? But he just stares without entering it in. OG Dave wheels the chair slightly to the side, types “lilcal” and the screen unlocks. Bro remains cadaverously still in his computer chair. 

Without a device to look at, you instead look around the apartment properly, realising for the first time that it isn’t exactly how you left it. Amongst the unnerving muppet pictures are faux-artsy photos that you never took, a couple drawings that neither you nor Bro penned. You can see a bust of Snoop Dogg in the hallway, which you frown at for a good ten seconds before getting restless and kind of uncomfortable in the silence. 

‘What’s crackin’, Daves?’ you ask. _Cracking like eggs,_ though you don’t clarify out loud.

‘Not online,’ OG Dave reports.

‘I’ve sent Rose twenty texts,’ old Dave says. ‘Twenty-one. Twenty-two. Okay, leaving it there. Don’t want to come off clingy. I’m cool. My best friend may or may not be alive slash on this plane of existence but I’m cool. Hmm ... twenty-three.’

‘I wonder if Jasprose made it through,’ you say. 

‘If Bro’s in contact with his Rose, does that mean you’re in contact with a Roxy?’ Dirk asks, looking at Bro. 

Old Dave looks at Dirk with sudden intensity, the pieces clicking together. He crosses the room in a couple of long strides and then hesitates as if aborting the idea of a hug. He holds up his fist instead. Dirk looks up at him as he bumps it.

‘Always wanted to meet you,’ old Dave mumbles. He looks a lot younger and you can see more easily how a Dave gets from sixteen to “not even forty”. 

Bro isn’t answering and you don’t think it’s out of respect for Dirk’s moment with his guardian. OG Dave looks down at him and then jerks his attention back to the computer. Before you became Davepeta you had some issues there, issues he’s probably still struggling through. You don’t suppose he can merge with an alien girl and find some peace from his childhood, your _shared_ childhood. You wonder if he’s as fine as he seems with being in the same room as Bro.

Arquius sits on the couch tentatively, like a troll who is very used to breaking things when he _isn’t_ tentative. It’s familiar and wonderful. 

‘Davepeta curls up on Arquius’s lap and gets some quality snugs time on,’ you say. ‘They ask, “what was up with the shirt, bro?”’

‘Intellectually I know the sun can’t hurt me, but the glasses side is not in charge of those particular instincts. I mean, Arquius reflects on the fact that he is uncomfortable with the pathetic Earth sun and wonders if his buff alter-ego minds the sweat situation, which is frankly redonkulous.’

‘Davepeta gives up on trying to eggducate Arquius on roleplay for the time being, beclaws they’re kinda more interested in the whole Lalonde mission. They sit up on Arquius’s lap and flick their ears all alert like. “I wonder about the other assholes,” they say.’

‘Is the roleplay over then? That felt like a conclusion.’

You laugh.

‘Yeah, bro. Let’s just chitter about it. Chitter totally works in a cat way and a bird way, I am _owning_ this.’

Arquius shrugs and looks around the room. His eyes catch on the same discrepancies you noticed, lingering on the Daveish contributions. It’s amazing that his arm is cool against yours and yet he’s still sweating. 

‘John and Jane are at their place,’ OG Dave reports. ‘John says that he landed on the shop where his Nanna died, so he thinks it’s a meteor location thing. Kinda annoyed he picked up on it first.’

‘How many messages have you sent your Rose?’ you ask old Dave.

‘None, probably,’ old Dave says. ‘Sixty-nine. _You’re_ the clingy one.’

‘Rose is online,’ OG Dave says urgently. The general posture in the room seems to improve. ‘She’s just complaining about walking.’ His fingers fly over the keyboard as he mutters, _‘Come on,’_ under his breath. ‘Oh my god, she will not shut up. Tell me something interesting, Lalonde.’

You snort. 

It takes the rest of the day for you to confirm that all the players and their accompanying adults have landed, excluding the trolls. You have _no_ idea what that means for you and Arquius. Are there duplicates of you on Alternia? Bro unfroze about ten minutes into Dave’s conversation with Rose and found a wall to lean against. In between Dave’s _many_ open Pesterchum windows buzzing at him, you finally get your claws around what to call each other.

You and Arquius are sorted, obviously. Bro flat out refuses Dirk and old Dave conceded that he hadn’t really got the chance to be a bro, something that made Dave look at you meaningfully (though you think “Bro” suits the upbringing you had over _”Dad”_ or something). So it’s really just about the other Daves. Seeing as OG Dave saved the universe and Dirk is keeping his name, he wins the title of Dave. Old Dave refuses “old Dave” and gives an even bigger shudder at David. You all pretended not to hear Bro’s suggestion of Dogg. That name is _taken,_ no disrespect to the big man in this house. “Strider” makes all six of you look. Eventually, Bro’s slightly disparaging nickname of “Hollywood” just happens to catch on.

After a dinner of a metric fucktonne of pizza, you all trundle down to the carpark. Hollywood wants you all to go to New York because apparently he won’t believe Rose is okay until he sees her. None of you are objecting, really, Lalondes are pretty much always a plus for Striders. 

Anyway, a conversation about what cars you have available to you has led to some posturing which needs to be backed up with physical evidence. You all stare at Bro’s rusty, twin cab pickup and Hollywood’s Ferrari. Two very different approaches. Both of the owners look like coming here has proven their points about car superiority, smug bastards.

‘If we took both cars we’d all fit,’ Dirk says.

‘Could fit all’a’y’all in mine,’ Bro says, hands in his pockets like he’s _just sayin’._

‘Nah, fuck it, I’ll go and hire something,’ Hollywood says, wisely ignoring Bro. It’s a five-seater anyway and you don’t think squishing four fairly big teens into the back seat is a fun way to spend nearly 30 hours of travel. ‘It’s not worth being separated and it’d be good to have two drivers.’

You stare at the cars some more. None of you can _comment_ on the car measuring contest, because leaving it unspoken completely defeats the purpose of coming down here and the irony gods must be appeased. There’s definitely no mention of rules. Hollywood’s Ferrari is real nice. You want to joke about taking a shit on it, ‘cause, you know, birds. But also you don’t think your weird sort-of family is ready for that. 

‘Okay,’ Hollywood says finally. ‘I’ll take first watch, we aim to leave at like eight AM?’

‘Watch?’ you repeat. 

‘I mean, in _my_ 2009 there was a genocidal alien out to kill me, but hey, if you say we’re all G ... I’m still gonna want to take first watch.’

Bro sighs. 

‘Lemme show you somethin’,’ he says.

Back up in the apartment, Bro brings up a computer program. You all crowd around to see it and Arquius is unsurprisingly the first to get it. 

‘Damn, Bromaggedon,’ he says. ‘You want to take down all of Houston?’

Dirk leans closer and after a few more seconds whistles lowly, also retreating to give the Daves more room. His eyebrows are up, but both he and Arquius are looking impressed with what you’re pretty sure is a labyrinth of booby traps and tracking devices that cover a four-block radius around the apartment. 

‘No need for shifts,’ Bro shrugs.

‘This is so fucking stupid,’ D says. 

*

‘The guy you were telling me about, the me that you grew up with,’ you hear Dirk saying through Dave’s door. ‘That’s him, isn’t it.’

‘Yup,’ Dave says shortly.

‘Want me to do something?’

‘Like what, dude?’

‘I don’t know, like something between murder and suicide by proxy?’

You move on, batting that whole problem around your head like a super tangled ball of yarn. Yeah, Bro was fucked up. But also, don’t kill people? You don’t think that’s actually a risk though, so you’re mostly just concerned about how Dave’s doing and also that things will get uncomfortable or even hurtful if everyone ignores that particular domestic elephant.

You sit on the couch next to where Arquius is answering Hollywood’s future questions and half-listen as you toss up whether Dave would appreciate a heart-to-heart with you.

‘—And you had enough vegetables,’ Hollywood says.

‘Pretty sure them being in cans wasn’t ideal, but yeah. We survived, Bro.’

‘You look shorter ...’ Hollywood says, eyes flicking past Arquius to where Bro’s sitting at the desk.

‘We look shorter than you,’ you say helpfully.

Though it’s not like you got enough vegetables growing up either. That elephant sure is a rambunctious bastard, but you’re good at pretending you’re comfortable in a dangerous room.

Bro swivels around in the computer chair as if he heard your thoughts. He leans back and rests an ankle on the opposite knee, projecting a kind of masculine laziness you haven’t seen in a real long time. It’s something too large for a teenager to wear, something most men probably can’t fit into. Suddenly you’re very young, suddenly you miss your mom and the way her tongues rasped when she groomed you. 

‘He’s from a different Earth,’ Bro says, pointing at Arquius. 

‘Yup,’ you say.

‘Are you?’

‘No. Well, okay, it’s complickated. Half of me is a troll girl who grew up in a different universe, the other half grew up here, with you. This you. I was the same as Dave, up until we played the game.’

Bro looks at you, attentive and motionless for several long seconds. Then he nods, in a way that looks lazy, except that you know that he wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to know.

‘I actually was there when you ... I was the orange guy. Pretty clawful shit, not gonna lie.’

Bro nods cautiously again. His head turns by several degrees so his shades are pointing behind you. You look and see Hollywood, his own shades pointed at both of you. You hadn’t noticed, but he and Arquius stopped talking once you and Bro started. 

‘Yo, so how’s about we all get our catnap on?’ you say brightly. ‘Big day tomorrow, right? You flockers seriously making the adorable bird-cat-teen be the adult here?’

It works, in that Hollywood and Bro stop their disconcerting stare-off. Not like you could tell it was a stare-off, because all six of you wearing shades is actually ridiculous, but still. There’s something about the vibes in here that’s making your fur stand on end. 

‘There’s still the issue of not enough beds,’ Hollywood says.

‘Arq and I are part troll, we can nest in some of this ridiculous bullshit we’ve got scattered around the place. _Birdshit,_ fuck. _Flock!’_ You push at Arquius’s slightly damp arm to make him organise that biz, knowing he’ll let you get away with it.

‘Is it a rule that you do that or something?’ Hollywood asks.

‘Nah, it’s just fur fun,’ you say, grinning at him. 

‘Still two of us and one futon,’ Bro says abruptly.

‘Tops and tails it?’ you shrug.

‘And sixty-nine my bizarro counterpart slash my bro’s alternate self?’ Hollywood says incredulously.

‘You’re sixty-nining wrong,’ Bro says. ‘Guess we could mutually suck each other’s toes if you’re desperate and wanna empty your wallet for the purpose, but ‘less you’re one to scurry half a body length away from where you lie down to sleep, think we’ll manage to keep our dicks where they belong.’

Hollywood grimaces, looking to you for support. Since you were the one to suggest they share in the first place, you have no idea why.

‘I’d prefer you didn’t put your mouths on each other,’ you say. 

The rest of the argument gets filed away as unimportant in your overloaded memory banks because the result of it is that Bro and Hollywood end up back to back under separate blankets in eerily similar positions. Both sets of feet overhang the mattress that Bro usually sleeps diagonally on. 

You watch their outlines from the pile, troll vision bleaching the apartment into blacks and whites and greys. Your eyes feel large and your body thrums with the urge to _run, hunt, play,_ but you keep still and focus on the comfort you’re sitting in, the lukewarm weight of Arquius holding himself stiffly next to you. 

‘Your tension is infectious, dude,’ you whisper.

‘Apologies, broseph,’ he murmurs back. ‘I don’t want to crush you in my sleep. I am _ludicrossly_ strong and I haven’t—we haven’t—I was awake for the piles we engaged in.’

You pap his face, saying ‘pap’ out loud as you do. His greyscale cheeks darken slightly. Aw. 

You settle back in and make yourself yawn. You pretend like your limbs are all heavy. You’re tired as shit! No hyper-kitty instincts here. And you’re more bird than cat anyway, seeing as you’re not cat at all. 

It straight up does not work. Looking at Arquius results in him looking down to meet your eyes. 

‘You feline nocturnal too?’ you ask.

 _’So_ nocturnal,’ he says. ‘100% nocturnal. It’s like I’m milk and—’ He stops talking when Bro flings his hat at him, hitting him square in the forehead. You snigger.

‘Wanna hang on the roof?’ you ask. Your voice is quiet, but it’s still a voice. But Bro only wears one hat, more fool him.

Anyway, Arquius does want to hang on the roof and Bro doesn’t stop you. It’s not like either of you will have to drive, there’s basically no reason for you to force yourself to lie awake when you could be doing something more practical with your time.

By sunrise, Arquius successfully describes himself moving in between narrating his thoughts as you RP and you learn how to cartwheel. _Definitely_ a practical use of time.

*

You end up in the seat next to Dirk in the rented minivan. There’s three surprisingly spacious rows, definitely enough room to fit the six of you comfortably even though the two big boys are basically hulks. Hollywood is driving, toeing the line between being _very_ careful to change lanes and gears smoothly, but also driving fast enough to overtake all but the most dickheaded of drivers. The fact that you all agree that the ones driving faster than you are dickheads doesn’t extend to thinking of your own speeding as dickheadishness, of course.

Bro watches Hollywood drive closely. He’s only letting someone else drive at all because of some macho version of tag they played—sorry, _competed in—_ that proved that they both have superhuman reflexes and speed. Hollywood might not be giving him a single thing to criticise, but Bro is apparently willing to be patient on that front. You’re mostly ignoring their continued dick measuring contest.

What’s more interesting is that Dirk is making an effort to get to know you. He and Dave had a slumber party of brotherly bonding last night and you expected them to continue that trend today, but they’ve mutually decided to extend their efforts to you and Arquius as well. You’ve gotten over your Davespriteish hang ups over being a spare Dave, but you have to admit that it’s really nice to be treated as someone worth knowing. You’re curious about the differences between Dirk and Arquius, and you’re betting he’s thinking something similar.

‘Okay, favourite colour?’ Dirk asks.

‘Are you crowing down some kind of list?’ you ask.

‘Yes,’ Dirk says, so deadpan that you have no idea whether he is or isn’t, _or_ whether he considers the fact that he is or isn’t doing so to be ironic.

‘Cool,’ you say. ‘Uuuummm ...’ 

You look down at your shirt, taken from a wardrobe you kind of don’t consider yours anymore. It’s one of those ones that looks like you’re wearing a white tee over a black long sleeved shirt and it’s honestly more boring than you would choose to buy now, but it’s not Derse jammies so it’s an upgrade. Neither black nor white is your favourite colour, nor is red anymore. Your jacket is olive, but choosing the colour of your blood (if that _is_ the colour of your blood) seems morbid. Ignoring the whole red thing.

‘Blue,’ you decide, thinking of two best bros. ‘You?’

‘Orange,’ he says. ‘It’s my dream in life to one day resemble a Dorito, something that seems a lot more attainable since meeting Mr Triangle Torso over there.’

Bro flips Dirk off without looking backwards.

‘What did you want to be when you were little,’ Dirk asks.

‘Me-yow,’ you say. ‘Big pounce from favourite colour, damn. Okay, Nepeta didn’t really get the whole “occupation” thing, but Equius told her she would probably be a ruffiannihilator and she was chill with that. Man, I’m probably _bananas_ strong now. Also hellsa stealthy and nimble. I gotta try stalking you flockers when we get to New York!’

‘I’m up for being kitten prey,’ Dirk says with a wry smirk. 

‘And Dave had like a sixty way tie, but mostly he wanted to be like Bro,’ you say.

Dave backhands you across a horn and you yelp. You sit up on your knees to hit him back and Hollywood bips the horn.

‘So help me god, I will pull this car over,’ he says monotonously. 

You sit back down. Then you look back at Dave and make a show of rubbing your horn as if it’s really hurt. Guilt floods Dave’s face as he realises he has no idea how sensitive horns are. You poke your tongue out at him and he covers his face with both hands before turning to Arquius and asking him about horns. Like, they’re not _unsensitive,_ you definitely don’t use them for charging or anything, but if you were wrestling something you’d totally try and jam them places your opponent wouldn’t want them.

‘Okay, your turn,’ you say, grinning at Dirk. He looks both amused by your prank and curious, but he doesn’t halt your conversation so he can listen as Arquius rattles off the biological composition of horns.

‘The depressing answer is that I wanted to be alive and able to see literally any other human,’ he says. ‘The also depressing answer, but this time because I was and continue to be insufferable, is that I wanted to make robots that could do all the impossible shit that humans struggled to make robots do, you know, natural movement, opening doors and shit—’

‘What?’ you ask.

‘Yeah, appreciate all the different functions that go into shit like that. It’s easier to get robots to blast through doors or move so fast you can’t tell they walk like uncanny valley, but I’m fucking awesome so I got there. That wasn’t the end goal, though.’

‘Oh?’

‘I wanted them to be really shit at robot things. Like they’d always lose chess, but not as if on purpose, legitimately bad playing. Forget shit and get emotional. Occasionally trip. You know.’

‘Tripping would be hard,’ Bro remarks.

‘Fucking hilarious,’ Hollywood says.

Dirk looks down as his cheeks flush to a ridiculously red colour that extends down his neck and even to what you can see of his forehead. You put every ounce of your effort into not laughing at him. The guy’s barely been around humans, he doesn’t need to be made fun of for reacting in literally any way. _Litterally._ Nice. _Mice._ Nah, that’s dumb. _Nyaice._ Nailed it.

When Hollywood trades off driving with Bro about seven hours into the trip, the car shuffles. Dirk takes the front seat, voice calm in a kinda scary way as he says “shotgun”, reminding you of what you overheard last night and making you kind of wish you could sit up there as well and mediate. Hollywood and Dave sit in the middle row and you and Arquius take the back. 

You recline your seat as far back as it goes (and _woah,_ it’s one thing for a car to have seven seats and a total ‘nother thing for every one of them to be able to recline) so that you can have a little catnap. The sleepless night is catching up on you, especially as you didn’t let yourself even _look_ tired while you were talking to Dirk. 

Arquius copies and starts snoring so suddenly and loudly that it draws the attention of literally every other Strider in the car, including the driving Bro. It makes you huff a little laugh, but it doesn’t keep you awake. It might even help you fall asleep. Kinda reminds you of Pounce’s purrs.

When you wake up, Bro’s putting you down on a shitty motel bed. You twist out of his arms at the last second and land on all fours. You’re disoriented, eyes continuing to flick around the room once you’ve taken in the essentials.

‘Fuckin’ chill,’ he says. 

‘You carried me in,’ you say.

‘You’re my kid,’ he says, before walking quickly to the doorway. He stops, throws a cold cheeseburger at you, then leaves the room.

‘Yeah, I thought it was weird too,’ Dave says. He’s sitting on a similarly shitty motel bed and there’s a third on his other side. ‘Arquius said you guys didn’t sleep last night and Bro said it wasn’t like you could walk right anyway and just ... picked you up.’

You sit up like a normal person and eat your cheeseburger. Hell yes, extra pickles. Huh, that’s two thoughtful things. Could have been Dave, though.

‘I can walk,’ you say. Dave gives you a look that you don’t have to work to interpret. Okay, yeah, Bro wouldn’t count normal person walking as anything close to success and you’re definitely not at 100% yet. 

‘And he nearly crashed the car when Dirk asked him about puppets,’ Dave continues. ‘Dirk took the wheel, which I guess probably doesn’t require much car know-how to do, but also shouldn’t have been a thing. Hollywood had fallen asleep literally on top of me or I would have made him take over.’

‘What, did his love of puppets litterally purrsess him?’

‘Nah, it was like yesterday, at the computer. Or maybe, I don’t know. Like he was thinking so hard that the outside stuff didn’t matter, Dirk said his eyes went kind of far-away but not, you know, absent.’

‘Fureaky.’

Dave nods in agreement and gets under his blankets. You scrunch up your burger wrapping and copy him. 

‘Dave?’ you ask.

‘’Sup.’

‘You didn’t happen to resolve all your issues with Bro through like, the power of friendship on the meteor?’

‘Nope.’

‘Cool,’ you say. ‘Cool beans. Like pawbeans.’

‘I swear to god, Davepeta.’

‘I can’t help that I’m so flocking awesome,’ you say, grinning at him. He’s not looking at you though. 

You’re pretty awake, but you think you can attempt at least a bit of sleep once your thoughts calm down. You definitely can tolerate lying calmly in the dark.

Bro returns to your room after a bit, so you assume Hollywood and the Dirks are in a matching room somewhere. It’s been long enough that you can tell Dave has fallen asleep, long enough that you’re kinda confused about what he’s been doing. You can smell his obnoxious, teen-boy deodorant that’s not-quite concealing cigarette smoke, but how long can a guy smoke for, even on a pretty mild spring night?

‘You reckon we’ll get there tomorrow?’ you whisper.

‘Mm.’

‘Tomeowrow,’ you mumble to yourself.

‘Good one,’ Bro says quietly.

You grin. Okay, so maybe he’s acting weird. It’s a good kind of weird though! People can change, people are awesome!

‘Good nyaight,’ you say, barely containing a giggle. Bro doesn’t laugh or anything, but you imagine he’s laughing real hard on the inside.

After a moment, he says, ‘Oyasumi nyasai.’ 

God damn weeb. You feel a surge of affection for him, one that you think Dave would be horrified by. But you’re a very different person to him.

*

You ask Bro outright what’s up the next day, riding shotgun and hugging your thighs to your chest, chin on a knee.

‘Na’much,’ he says. ‘’Sup with you, kitty-cat?’

‘Yeah, that’s what I’m cawing about,’ you say. ‘That’s unusually ... nyaice? Affectionate? Playful? You’re not any of those things.’

Bro glances at you before he turns back to the road. His posture doesn’t change, but you see his forearm muscles flex to tightness.

‘Not that I’m complainin’,’ you say, playing casual. ‘I’m purretty sure you’ve got a good heart, like, deep down. But it’s pretty flockin’ deep down, nya’m’sayin?’

You wonder if that was recognisable as _know what I’m saying?_ Apparently so, because Bro doesn’t question you.

‘Needed to get you through the game,’ he shrugs. ‘Job done.’

‘Cool beans,’ you say, this time not clarifying what kind of beans you’re referring to. ‘Wanna RP a little then?’

‘It’s been a while since Dragon Ball message boards, but aight, there’s worse car games,’ he says. ‘You start.’

‘The mighty huntress—wait, uh ... gonna say hunter?’ You pause, deliberating. ‘Nah, fuck it, I’m a meowtherflocking huntress, screw the masculine version being the neutral one.’

‘Preach,’ Bro says, completely deadpan.

‘The mighty huntress is all kinds of hidden in the dense scrub,’ you start, putting on a kind of adventure-narration appropriate voice. ‘They creep forward super quiet on their prey, a cholerbear of ludicrous size snuffling at the entrance of a cave. Hmm, Davepeta thinks. I am gonna make that bitch into lasagna.’

Bro nods when you pause expectantly and you wait patiently for him to continue. You have no idea how this’ll go, it’s not like he ever read you stories. But his comics were ... awful, okay, but they contained a pretty creative narrative!

‘Before Davepeta can make Italian cuisine out of the polarbear—’

‘Cholerbear, it’s like a polarbear but with six legs and like four times as scary at least.’

‘—out of the _cholerbear,’_ Bro corrects, rolling his neck to demonstrate how hard he’s rolling his eyes. ‘A unicorn prances out of the cave and stabs the motherfucker through the throat. I can’t wait to use this cholerbear blood to summon demons to do my dark bidding, Nightwind says out loud.’

You snort because he put on a super sarcastic version of an enthusiastic Sesame Street host for his unicorn voice.

‘A unicorn?’ you ask.

‘A horse with a sword on its head, you’re damn fuckin’ right a unicorn. A unicorn will fuck you up.’

‘My apawlogies,’ you say, laughing. ‘Davepeta is like, woah, what a rad unicorn. They approach with great deference and say, “Yo, do you need help getting all that teal blood and viscera off of you?”’

*

When it’s you and Dave in the very back, he hooks his hand around your neck so you’re paying extreme attention to him and crouched down so you’re both hidden behind the seats. He mouths _what the fuck_ very clearly. 

Bro’s in the row in front of you and you know Dave doesn’t want to be heard. You shrug, tiny smile on your face. Dave frowns at you. He points at Bro’s seat, then makes a circle with his hand and gestures it up and down. You shrug again, nodding in agreement. Yes, Bro _is_ a wanker. Dave releases your neck so that he can thrust his open hands out dramatically. _So???_ you interpret. 

You hold up a finger so that you can think, both as to how to respond and also how to convey your response in mimes. Okay.

You gesture at both of you and then hold up your pointer fingers. Then you puppet the fingers walking in opposite directions, one towards you and one towards him. You point to your horns and your big smile. Dave rolls his hand and wrist, like, yeah, he gets it, you’re different, move on. You point at your horns with more emphasis. _Troll_ different. He nods. You point at yourself and then waggle your shades and do a cool nod. You’re cool. You point at him and make a scared face then an angry face, then pat him on the knee and smile at him reassuringly. It’s okay that he’s not there yet!

He looks at you in blank judgement. Then he throws up his hands in exasperation and sits up straight, leaning on his window and looking out it. Okay ... conversation over, apparently! Probably for the best. There’s some complicated shit happening in your head and it’s not easily expressed through mime.

It’s eight at night by the time you roll up to the Lalonde house. You spent a fair bit of time in the house during the game, but never when it was attached to a big ass gate or forrest. Hollywood enters in a passcode at the gate without hesitation. You respect 8008 as a brilliant choice.

Rose meets you at the door and is completely not prepared for you pouncing on her for a hug. 

‘Hi,’ she says awkwardly, patting you on the back.

‘Hey!’ you say, releasing her. Leaning all your weight on her was only a little because you lost your balance. ‘Better that I give you some of the Strider lovin’, ‘claws you know you’re not gonna get it from these sourpusses. Bringin’ it up to you like some stank-ass dead mouse all like, you are _welcome,_ this is a special purresent just fur you!’

‘Yes,’ she says, still awkward. ‘I ... thought I should meet you, given the malevolently misleading architecture.’

Dave bumps fists with her and that’s the extent of the affection any of your stupidly repressed family shows before she leads the way into the house. It isn’t actually as labyrinthine as Rose has always liked to make out, but it’s not a terrible thing to have a guide. 

In the massive living room, you’re confronted with three extra Lalondes and a giant fuckin’ wizard. Bro whistles, impressed. It’s old news to the rest of you.

‘I don’t think introductions are especially necessary,’ Rose says. ‘I trust your intellects to be able to make logical deductions on which of us are called Rose and which are Roxy.’

‘You didn’t come up with nicknames?’ Dave asks.

‘Did _you?’_ Rose asks, cocking her head all politely curious like Dave’s a teeny birdie who tawt he taw a puddy tat.

‘Yeah, obvs we’re already Davepeta and Arquius,’ you say, happily ignoring Rose’s bullshit, which pisses her off much worse than you getting flustered, obviously. ‘And the big guys are Bro and Hollywood,’ you say, pointing. 

‘Hollywood,’ big Rose repeats, her expression _exactly_ like your Rose’s when she’s laughing her fat ass off internally.

‘Yeah, I missed you too,’ Hollywood says. For a guy who hasn’t been off his phone to that gal the whole time, he sure isn’t going over and hugging her. He should let those felines out, get some emotional purrspective on! Like, come on, Daves! ‘How’d you get out of being renamed?’

‘We’re capable of determining who is being referred to via context,’ big Rose says. ‘But I can understand if that’s beyond the Strider clan.’

 _’Mom,’_ Roxy scolds, grinning delightedly.

‘Rosie, sweetie, you gonna offer our guests somethin’ to eat?’ Rose’s mom says. 

‘Please, may I offer you our hospitality?’ big Rose says, before your Rose can do more than open her mouth. 

Big Rose walks and gestures towards a dining room and you follow as suggested. Rose looks amused. You get the feeling that the whole “we can figure out who we mean by context” is something that at least half the Lalondes have been taking advantage of. You’re not disappointed when you end up sitting next to big Rose; you kinda remember her as if from a dream and you’re itching to confirm just how awesome she is. 

Bro flinches when Rose’s mom pours herself into the seat next to him. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him flinch before? You look at Dave to see his reaction, but he’s too busy being tortured by little Rose over something or other.

‘Roxanne,’ Bro says, so respectfully it’s definitely sarcastic.

‘You _know_ tha’s not my name, Richard,’ she replies. 

‘At least it’s plausible, fuck. Lalonde, my name’s not even Dick.’

‘You sure? ‘Cause you look like a Dick to me.’

You snort and Bro throws a fork at you, easily done when you’re directly opposite to him and easy for you to catch out of the air, too. Rose’s mom throws her head back and laughs loudly before throwing her arms around Bro. This time when you look at Dave he catches your eye and you feel solidarity in this perceiving Bro business. 

You struggle to talk to big Rose as well as keep tabs on how Bro and Rose’s mom conversation is going. Rose does not take pity on you, except for when she’s similarly interested in their conversation (such as when Rose’s mom loudly asks Bro how the porn business is these days and Bro replies that “it’s hard work, but it’s got its ups”). You learn that Bro and Rose’s mom have known each other longer than you’ve been alive, but not so long that she ever saw him at Dirk’s age. You learn that Hollywood calls big Rose whenever he has to fire someone because he can’t cope with it. You learn that if you’re not paying attention to your food because you’re trying to focus on two conversations at once, Dirk will steal your potatoes.

Rose’s mom brings a fresh bottle of wine with her into the living room. Hollywood takes a glass with the big Lalondes, but Bro does not. He’s always been against anything that could dull his senses and apparently that’s continuing despite him saying that the job’s done. (The smoking thing is different, he came by his addiction young and claims that he has enough ninja shit to juggle without devoting his enormous brain to kicking it.)

After a conversation way off in the corner of the room with Dirk, Roxy steals Arquius from you and leaves you alone to figure out who to bother next. Hollywood and big Rose are exchanging notes on what they remember of the final days and how this world differs from their own (their masterpieces don’t exist, but how else?), Rose’s mom is making Dave and Dirk stand next to each other while she coos over how much they’ve grown (the fact that she’s never met them seems to be irrelevant), and Rose has cornered Bro (literally, his back is to the wall). You decide that you might as well go and umpire that match.

‘Yo,’ you say. ‘What’re you cool cats talking about?’

‘Your brother’s websites,’ Rose says.

‘Aaaand I’m out,’ you say, attempting to walk away. Bro grabs the hood of your jacket and you spring back into conversational range, clawing for balance. Bro steadies you and you think it’s probably not coincidence that you end up half in front of him.

‘As I was saying,’ Rose says. ‘The projection of sexuality onto—’

‘Yeah, I get what you were sayin’,’ Bro interrupts. ‘And you’re right. I didn’t have parental figures as a kid and also lacked playthings so I fetishise the things I lacked, in addition to the symbolic ability to have total control over a thing twice over, in that I got control over any object, sure, but then it’s a puppet which specifically’s about that.’ He straightens his cap casually. ‘And I basically imprinted on a puppet like a fuckin’ duckling, but let’s not make this analysis thing too easy.’

‘Can we not?’ you groan.

‘You’re very self aware,’ Rose says.

‘That’s the introduction, we do not need the body paragraphs,’ you say. ‘C’mon, Bro ...’

But when you turn to tug your forearm out of his grip, he’s gone still again. You’re beside him this time, so you can see how his eyes have gone wide, staring sightlessly forward. Like Dave said, he’s not _empty._ You’re reminded of what he looks like when he’s listening really hard, taking in the surroundings outside of you so much that he doesn’t take you into account.

‘Bro,’ you say quietly.

Rose, already on high alert from having a Strider to spar with who doesn’t crumple the second she stops teasing and gets a true hit in, takes half a step closer and twists like a snake to peer behind Bro’s shades too.

He puts his hand on her face, and Jesus is her face small or is his hand big because something about that looks weird, apart from, you know, his hand being entirely on her face, and he pushes so that she has to take that half-step backwards again. When he lets her go you kinda expect to see his fingerprints in red on her face, but of course he didn’t hurt her.

‘Just like Roxanne,’ he mutters. He turns to you. ‘You were with me when I died,’ he says, super casually.

‘Yeah ...’ you say.

‘What happened to ... what happened to Lil Cal?’

‘Mostly he turned into a giant, buff skull alien who I think I killed? I cannot emphasise too much how completely ripped he was. But also there was some time travelling shenanigans.’

Bro nods thoughtfully. And then he does something really weird. He reaches down and takes your hand in his.

‘Davepeta attempts to purrsess this through non RP methods and fails worse than cats on the internet sometimes fail jumps,’ you say, all in one breath and monotone like you haven’t been in this body with all its nuanced expressions even for a second. ‘Oh man, I totally want to watch every single cat video on the internet beclaws that wasn’t a thing on Alternia and I am just going to lose my shit. Bro’s still holding my hand, Rose, Bro is holding my hand.’

And then you completely crack and just start giggling. Bro lets go of you and you do not stop. You want to ask what the fuck, but you’re really not stopping panic-giggling. Come on! You’re the cool part-Dave!

It’s like you were saying—miming to Dave. You grew up with a lusus, gentler than most but who was still a giant monster. She protected you and cuddled you and saved you when your hive exploded. But you fed yourself, you had to learn to fight and hunt, you didn’t even have access to traditional schoolfeeding after you moved to your cave so you just sorta had to figure things out. Bro was a pretty good lusus, too, even if he was an absolute dogshit human guardian. 

‘What was that about?’ Rose asks, uncharacteristically ignoring your mental breakdown.

Bro opens and closes his hand like a puppet next to his ear and you finally stop laughing. The whole room is staring at you, because you totally just made a scene.

‘He was so fuckin’ loud whenever I did anything ...’ he hesitates, finding the word, ‘tender.’

You stare at him. You could hear a pin drop in this room.

‘Man, I got the echoes of it,’ he says, rolling his shoulders as if he’s warming up for a fight. You flex your hands but your gloves don’t have blades in them anymore and so you remain unarmed. ‘But _expectin’_ to be called a pervert is not the same as being called a pervert. I used to throw you across the road so I didn’t have to walk you across it, do you remember?’

You nod, eyes frozen too wide.

‘Loud motherfucker,’ he says, and then he laughs, honest-to-god laughs. ‘Forget imprinting, mini-Lalonde,’ he says to Rose. ‘I was _raised_ by a puppet. Freud would die choking on his anime nosebleed if he could get in my head for three god damn seconds.’

And then he just walks away from you, right to Rose’s mom. When she brushes his shoulders as if they’re dusty, he _smiles._ Dave flashsteps over to you, escaping from the vicinity of that and getting near the only person who could get how fucked up this is.

‘What’s happening,’ Dave asks.

You have no idea. You feel weird, conflicted. Unhappiness doesn’t sit right in this body, which is a kind of concerning that you’re having to put aside for later digestion because _you_ aren’t sitting right in this body right now. But you can make some inferences based on what Bro just said. Based on some shit that you’d already suspected.

‘You know how I went back in time? Dave-me?’

‘Yeah,’ he says.

‘Cal was my sprite. He damn near nearly drove me insane. I could get rid of him for a bit, but he’d always come back. He just laughed at me. It was so bad I didn’t even feel bad for leaving, not at the time.’

You glance at Rose. She smiles gently at you. Something like forgiveness. You weren’t sure she remembered. You should have checked.

‘But that wasn’t the first time I’d heard that laugh,’ you say, looking at Dave. He nods and you can tell none of this is a revelation to him.

‘Dirk said his was empty,’ Dave says.

You shake your head. And then again. You’re starting to get a headache. _Too much Dave,_ you know that’s what’s happening just like you’d know that it was your leg that was hurting if you broke it. This is important, though.

‘Wow. Not the word for ours.’

‘That’s what I said.’

You don’t know if anyone’s ever held your hand before? You’ve arm wrestled Kanaya, but that’s definitely not the same. Jade used to hook her pinky around hers and tug you around. She called you her balloon. That was weird, but also cute? Yeah, definitely cute.

‘Does it matter if he had a good reason?’ you wonder.

‘Nope,’ Dave says, with no hesitation, like he’d been thinking it too. ’Didn’t matter when he was dead, doesn’t matter now.’ Then he looks at you properly. ‘C’mon. Let’s ...’ he hesitates _now,_ which has you tensing up. You don’t like thinking of just one half of yourself this much and it’s starting to get really uncomfortable. ‘Let’s furget it for meow,’ he says.

Your mouth falls open in surprise. Rose chokes on a laugh.

‘Okay?’ you say. ‘It’s no feather out of my cap?’

‘We may as well put some birds in the bush,’ Rose replies, smiling. Ah, you got that one wrong. Whoops!

You breathe a little easier, even though your head is still hurting. When you chew on your lip, you feel your fangs, your cleft upper lip and your thin lower one. You’re _you._ Not a Dave with a new skin. And you don’t make puns and roleplay because you have a separate Nepeta in you that’s wanting that, you do it because you love it, you as you are now, as a whole. 

You smile, crouch a little as you rise on your tip-toes and make paws out of your hands. And then you start beatboxing.

‘Aw, _hell_ yes,’ Dave says. 

You proceed to have one of the best rap collaborations in the history of paradox space.

*

You like night air. It has a different quality to it, you think. Maybe it’s just the peace, now that everyone else has gone to bed. You wonder if you’re actually nocturnal or if you’ve just got a shitty sleep routine going. You know the humans and troll managed to be in sync on the meteor.

‘Do you think there are copies of us on Alternia?’ you ask Arquius.

He turns to look at you. His red eyes pierce through his shades like none of the other Striders’, almost like they’re glowing. The stars provide enough illumination to see them, so much brighter out here than in Houston.

‘That’s my leading theory, yes,’ he says. ‘I doubt that our human components were more important than our troll components.’

‘Do you think that that Davepeta and Arquius are the same as us? Seeing as we’re being all nurtured by Striders?’

‘Nurtured for several days.’

‘We’re at a furmative age.’

Arquius huffs with quiet laughter. And then he laughs properly. He’s practicing that, because he likes that he feels more open about his emotions now. More comfortable. But neither of his components were used to expressing themselves. You smile and look down at where you’re picking at the bark of the branch you’re sitting on. 

‘I think the environment _strongly_ influences us,’ he says. ‘Are you feeling excessively Strider?’

‘Not right meow,’ you say. ‘If anyfang, you make me feel more Nepeta-ish. ‘Cause I’ve spent more time with you as her then I have as him. I mean, you’re not the same.’ You nudge him. ‘You’re a lot more purrmissive meow.’

‘I never had the right to tell you what to do,’ Arquius says softly. ‘I realised that while we were still playing in the troll session.’

You’re both quiet for a bit. You don’t feel the need to comment on that, because you already did back on the meteor. And you don’t feel like getting into a whole thing about your Nepeta feelings as some kind of compensation for earlier. You doubt that’d help.

‘What do you think of Hollywood?’ you ask.

‘It seems I have a severely unrighteous amount of hero worship going on,’ Arquius says. ‘The fact that he cares about me as well as Dirk damn near gives me the giggles. What do you think of him?’

‘He’s purretty cool. I kind of remember snippets of being him, but it’s real fuzzy.’

‘I never got that. Although, I wasn’t a squared sprite.’

‘Ha, yeah.’ You grin at him and he does a very sincere attempt at a smile back, which makes you laugh. ‘Even thinking about that in that little way makes my pan feel more at ease. I’ve lived so many different lives! The universe is infinite! It’s not like that makes this one any less special, it just takes the purressure off. Whatever happens, that’s how it’s meant to be. And I’m lucky enough to expurrience it!’

‘Even if things get messy with all that?’ he asks, gesturing at the house. ‘We could go find our own adventure if you thought that it was going to tear you apart. We don’t know what would happen if the equivalent of a spritesplode happened in a nonsprite body.’

You cock your head to the side and think. You know he’s being sincere about his offer and you doubt it’s a spontaneous one. You don’t have to stay here. You’re _free,_ you really are. With some money and a bit of Roxy hacking you some IDs, you could do literally anything! 

But you can make a difference here. Like, you know you don’t have to. It’s just that Dave has a billion hangups he’s not going to work through on his own, shit he probably can’t even dump on Bro or Dirk. And Bro has potential, you know it. And you want to know a new mom who loves cats as much as you do. And you want to see everyone else.

And whatever, sure they’d get by without you. But you _like_ these guys!

‘Nah,’ you say. ‘Thanks, but I can handle it.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah! Okay, here’s my thinking: tonight hurt me beclaws it hit me right in my heart, ‘claws I wasn’t purrpared and furgiving Bro isn’t the same as being completely okay with whatever happens! I’ve been fine the last couple days, you’d think somefang would have purrvoked that shit if it were just me thinking more with my Dave head than with my head how it is.’

Arquius nods. You pat him on the hand reassuringly and then leave yours on top of his.

‘No, serious,’ you say. ‘I furgot a bit, about all the shit I eggsperienced when I got squared. I don’t know if Bro was a really shitty guardian because of Cal, or if it’s because he resented playing a suppurrting role in my hero’s journey, or if he just is a dick who shouldn’t be allowed near children. I don’t know if I’m cool with him because he was kind of a lusus or because I got so many lifetimes worth of being loved dumped in my brain and that makes this feel smaller or what it is. Maybe I’m just a pawsitive purrson! But we’re all 16, right? We don’t need a dad or a lusus anymore, we’re not reliant on one messed up dude fur all our affection and supurrt. We have well and truly left the flockin’ nest. We can have a relationship with him that’s based on somefang else.’

Arquius looks up at the sky contemplatively. You let him think, no longer burdened with the crushing need to fill every silence. 

‘I will help,’ he says. ‘I suspect there were many factors involved in his shittiness and I am very good at interpreting Dirk-style foolishness.’

‘Rad!’

He continues to look at the sky. You wonder if he’s looking for Alternia. You would be, if you knew how.

‘Before I ascended to this totally beefed up final form, I ironically tried to separate myself more from the idea of being a Dirk than I do now. No one _likes_ being a Dirk, and I was quite successful at proving to be my own separate person in the eyes of those around us. Now that I legitimately am separate, I’ve found a sense of peace not dissimilar to what you’re describing. I am partially Dirk, though not anywhere near so much as I am partially Lil Hal. And your bro is partially Dirk as well. Any list of our Dirkish attributes necessitates so many _strong_ contradictions, which results in our solipsistic tendency to try and untangle that shit. We all get off on torturing ourselves and each other. I know that you are sure and won’t insult you by questioning your resolution. But it will not be easy to help him.’

He takes his free hand and very, _very_ carefully puts it on top of yours. You slip your hand out from the sandwich and hug him instead. He’s only stiff for a second before he leans into it.

‘Thanks,’ you say, face squished into his bicep.

‘We should attempt to align our sleep with the rest of them if we are to fix all their problems.’

You climb down from the tree and catch Arquius easily when he can’t quite manage the descent himself. You punch him affectionately in the shoulder as you walk back to the house. You’re so glad he’s on your side!

*

Bro adjusts the dials around the telescope again. He’s looking for meteors, because just as Hollywood and big Rose have been obsessively combing the internet for evidence that the Batterwitch is really gone, Bro and big Roxy don’t quite trust that their danger is gone. He hasn’t told you to fuck off yet.

‘Hey, so what do you think of your parenting style?’ you ask abruptly. ‘Self-evaluation, scale of one to ten.’

‘Pretty solid three,’ he replies, not looking up from the eye piece.

‘Right,’ you say, kinda surprised.

‘What would you give me?’

‘Maybe a four?’

Bro huffs a laugh in a way that’s very similar to how Arquius starts his laughs. He does not proceed to laugh properly. 

‘Why’d you do a shit job?’ you ask.

‘Good parents aren’t raising their kids for slaughter,’ he says. ‘Never wanted to be any kinda dad. “Bro” was only marginally better.’

He fiddles with the dials again. He’s doing a really thorough job, the telescope has barely moved. 

‘Thinkin’ of bouncing,’ he says. ‘You got Hollywood. Hell, you got Rox and Rose. And you’re old enough to live on your own, if you wanted. Shit, if you’re old enough to die and kill, who am I to try and parent you. “Son, you’re grounded,” I think the fuck not.’

‘You’ve never grounded us and you know it,’ you say.

He’s quiet, just adjusting and writing down notes and adjusting again.

‘I don’t want you to leave,’ you say.

He looks up. His shades are on the floor next to his feet so he can look through the telescope and it’s weird being the subject of his uninterrupted gaze. Makes you feel self conscious in the shirt you borrowed from Roxy. Then he turns back to the ‘scope without taking down a note, like he hadn’t finished what he was doing.

‘You could come with,’ he offers, not looking up.

‘Dave wouldn’t come,’ you say. ‘And, unfurtunately, Dave needs you.’

Bro snorts. 

‘He does!’ you say. ‘He deserves better than a three outa ten bro!’

‘Ouch, kid, where’d my four go?’

‘Maybe you furgot it in the Brajstop ball room.’

Bro falls as silent as the Brajstop ball room. There were never any balls. You were always there for hours, so it was hard to tell the couple of times he just straight up left you there. How long does shopping even take, anyway.

‘You should try and be better fur him,’ you say. 

‘I don’t got a “better”.’

‘What about Cal?’ you insist.

‘Yeah, been thinkin’ about it. Pretty sure I would’ve been dogshit anyway.’ He glances up. ‘Catshit.’

You approach him and he straightens, looking curious. You’ve got a pretty friendly face, so you don’t think he’s at all expecting you to leap up and punch him in the face. You hit him solidly on the cheek, not holding back on your awesome part-troll strength. It makes a loud thud and actually knocks him off his feet. You cock your head. You didn’t realise he _could_ be knocked down.

‘The fuck?’ he says, touching fingers to his mouth to check for blood as he gets his elbow under him. There isn’t any you can see, but you’d be surprised if he didn’t bruise. Then again, he is Bro. You crouch down in front of him and give him a cheery smile.

‘You needed that,’ you tell him.

‘Okay,’ he says.

‘I can’t really stop you if you want to skip out on us,’ you say. ‘But I didn’t think you were such a pussy.’

Anger flashes in his eyes and he sits up properly. You put your hand over his mouth and he’s so surprised he doesn’t push you away immediately.

‘It’ll take _work_ to be better. He’s not gonna trust you or like you fur a really long time. And you’re gonna suck at it, beclaws if you’ve ever been even a little kind then I sure as flock haven’t seen it. But you’re Dirk meowtherflocking Strider, apparently. Are you seriously telling me you’re afraid of a little hard work?’

You take your hand away. He licks his lips and stares at you.

‘The damage is done, kid.’

‘Not. Good. Enough,’ you growl.

‘You want to kill me? You want Dave to kill me?’ 

Bro pushes himself up to standing and you follow immediately. He’s a over a foot taller than you but you’ve never been less afraid of him. Whatever happens is what is meant to happen. You don’t think you’re meant to be hurt today.

‘I would lay down my life for you,’ he says, speaking slow and deliberately. ‘I _have_ and would again. But it’s too late for “kind”.’

‘So beclaws he had a shit childhood now he gets to have a shit rest of his life?’

‘Could you chill with the fucking “beclaws” and shit for five—’

‘No!’ you interrupt. _’Beclaws_ I’m offuring you an oppurrtunity and you’re going to fucking take it, Bro. You’re never going to make up for what you did but you can at least show him—show _us_ that we’re worth _trying_ fur. You can do your time! I believe in you!’

Bro’s hands jump up and you fall back into a ready stance automatically, but all he does is grab his hair, knocking his hat off.

‘Don’t wanna try at somefang you’re not gonna be the best at, huh,’ you say.

‘Davepeta ...’

He squeezes his eyes shut and drops to a frustrated crouch for half a second before he’s up and pacing. He’s full of aggressive energy and he’s not directing an ounce of it at you. That _has_ to mean something.

‘It’s not as easy as that,’ he says.

‘So?!’

He drops his hair and picks up his hat. He rubs the brim of it, jaw tight, refusing to meet your eyes. His shades remain on the ground. He looks like Dirk without the hat. It somehow makes his cheeks look different and basically hid his forehead, but you can really see the resemblance now that it’s off.

‘I’ll help,’ you say gently. ‘I want to help.’

He looks at you. Even now, you read his emotions in tiny tells. You think he’d look _bored_ to most people. He looks anguished to you. 

The moment holds for a long time, until, without warning, he disappears so fast he’s just a blur. He took his shades with him. 

_Well,_ you think. _Now it’s his turn._

**Author's Note:**

> “Oyasumi nasai” is Japanese for good night. “Oyasumi nyasai” is that, but with “nya” chucked in. Good nyaight works as a pun in both languages and I love it.


End file.
